


A Deft Hand

by S (Shorlinne)



Series: Pupcake Patchwork [8]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Pupcake - Freeform, Pupcake Patchwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24465715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorlinne/pseuds/S
Summary: Patsy stumbles back to her room and is startled by Trixie's bright, eager presence. Anxious to avoid unnecessary questions, she agrees to invite her friend to join her and Delia on an outing, where more questions are raised.Part of the Pupcake Project, patch eight.
Relationships: Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Series: Pupcake Patchwork [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693711
Comments: 22
Kudos: 72





	A Deft Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo All! I'm Shel/S and I'm a long time lurker and reader. I've left lots of comments and kudos and downloaded more fics than I dare admit (y'all make for beautiful reading and make me feel less alone!) so I'm especially nervous to upload this contribution. Cheers!

"I had no idea that game was so dangerous!"

Trixie’s voice lifted from the far side of the room as Patsy turned sharply, having tried to shut the door behind her as quietly as possible. The impish smile across her roommate’s face beneath her lifted brows had Patsy fighting a quick blush, tossing her hair quickly to conceal her features as she quipped in reply,

“Oh! It’s just—Nothing. Delia’s quite competitive at… Cards.”

_Shit, shit, shit_. She knew they should have been a little more careful, but they’d also known the Nuns would have been too busy to notice, and everyone else was supposed to be on-call—Trixie had just _left_ when the phone rang, and if Pats had listened she’d have heard any rings. Everything had been rightfully covered! Right?

Apparently not.

“Right.” A slow grin lit Trixie’s face as her hands deftly flitted against her hair, working in her curlers,

“It’s rather a good thing Mrs. Hannah’s labor was so quick – Goodness knows the sort of things one could misconstrue from _that_ racket.”

The comment was idle, but it hung in the air like ice. Patsy blinked once, then swallowed quickly and forced a grin,

“I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Really, Pats!”

Trixie’s chuckle was half-chiding as Patsy maneuvered to her dresser quickly, hands fumbling for a shot glass, looking for anything, _anything_ to change to subject, but Trixie pressed on, almost oblivious to the tremble in her hands.

“One would think you’d at _least_ invite me—”

Patsy nearly dropped the thin bottle of liquor and spun around, wide-eyed. Trixie blinked in surprised, as she tilted her head and added softly, “You do know I hate feeling left out. And I _am_ a good hand at cards—Even if you two squabble like the dickens over them. You might need a referee!”

A slow, dull nod from Patsy. She lifted the drink to her lips and sipped at it, at a loss for what to say. _Oh, no, Trix, that wouldn’t be wise—There’d be too many legs?!_

The pause was longer than she had intended, and she watched Trixie droop a little as a pang of regret lanced through her. _Say something, Patsy!_

“But if it’s something you want to keep between you two, I understand – I know I’m not… As fun as I used to be…”

The blonde trailed off and turned away, her shoulders down, and Patsy grimaced to herself. The glass went back to the side table with a soft thud as she moved to Trixie’s side and reached out with a sigh,

“Trix—You know that’s not it. I’m sorry.”

Trixie cast a side-long glance to her and shrunk down somewhat. Her voice was smaller than Patsy had expected.

“I shouldn’t have butt in. That was rude of me—I know you and Delia are best of friends, but I just feel I’ve been… A bit left behind, really. Everything’s changed so quickly.”

Trixie traced the worn blanket between them, and Patsy sighed, pulling the blonde in to her side and putting her head on her shoulder. Trixie stiffened somewhat in surprise, but made no effort to pull away, eliciting a soft ‘hmm.’ Patsy shut her eyes and smiled softly,

“I know they have. And that’s partially my fault—Since Delia’s accident and her coming back… Well, you know. I didn’t want to lose a friend. Not again.” She couldn’t stop the slight crack in her voice, and on the opposite side, hidden from view her own hand curled into the blanket. She prayed her friend wouldn’t notice, but Trixie made no reaction to her movement, and for a moment the silence was taut and still. Then, Trixie leaned in slightly and shrugged,

“Are you sure I’m not--?”

“No.” Patsy’s rebuff of her doubts was firm, and the side-hug firmer. Trixie let out a shaky laugh, and Patsy’s smile broadened,

“Tell you what. We’ve all got Friday off—And Delia needs a break from her exams just as much as I need a stretch out of this building. Why don’t we all go dancing?”

“Really?” Trixie sat up and pulled away, her eyes bright. Patsy’s grin couldn’t dim, as she laughed and nodded,

“Absolutely! No drinks. No feeling shied away. Just you, me, Delia, and a dance floor. What do you say?”

Trixie appeared to mull it over for a moment, and Patsy shifted with impatience – The moment seemed to last too long. Had she offended her friend? Had she been too obvious? Had she been too quick to ask?

Trixie’s eyes darted to Patsy’s, as she sniffed once, then glanced at her nails,

“I suppose… Only if we get fish and chips after.”

Patsy barked a laugh, and it was quickly agreed.

\----

“Pats, are you sure?”

Delia’s voice was low as the pair waited outside the steps of Nonnatus house. Delia was sat on the stairs while Patsy hovered besides, a cigarette in her hands, unlit as she bounced on her feet. They exchanged a look, twins to nerves and uncertainty as Patsy shrugged softly, her voice lowered to match Delia’s,

“She looked so put out. One night wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“Yes, but—” Delia trailed off, and Patsy caught the dip in her tone. She knew what it meant. She and Delia did love going out with the girls, keeping up appearances, laughing over cocktails or hushed in the theatres. But with a crowd, it was so much easier to slip her hand into Delia’s, to place a comforting hand on the small of her back for an instant, a moment uncaught, unnoticed, quick to be passed off as a friendly bit of support. But with the three of them, such quick, glancing moments were less inconspicuous, and their precious time together dwindled down to less and less.

Delia had not been _cross_ , per say, when Patsy had sprung the idea of her. It _had_ rather ruined a quick peck in the mudroom as they crossed paths, however, and Patsy had paid for the loss of yet another moment with pieces of Delia’s stubborn silence through the rest of the afternoon. She’d come around by evening, however, and the plans had been drawn up.

A few dances at the Midnight Lounge, Coffees up the street and their usual late-night return to Nonnatus. It wouldn’t have been a bad way to spend the evening, had the plans not interrupted their _other_ plans. As it were, it’d likely be another two weeks before Delia and Patsy’s schedules aligned in any meaningful way.

Whilst ruminating to herself, Patsy reached for her lighter, stopped only by Delia’s hand on her elbow. Patsy felt herself relax, her unease and temper melting away as Delia offered her a soft smile, her blue eyes gleaming beneath her tidied bangs.

“We’ll have a good time of it. I don’t mean to be a downer, Pats.”

“You aren’t. Just honest.”

Delia’s chuckle and soft eyeroll caught Patsy in a gentle grin, as Delia stood, using Patsy’s arm as leverage. Her hands moved slightly up Patsy’s arm, causing Patsy to stiffen slightly—

The moment further marred by the rush of the door behind them opening. They had a second to jump apart and did so, deftly as they could, Patsy dropping her cigarette in haste. Trixie was adjusting her handbag as she turned, calling back,

“Goodbye Barbara! Do let us know how it goes!”

There was a distant shadowed half-wave from phone, as Barbara propped herself on an elbow and waved them off. She’d expressed some dourness in not being able to attend, but duty called. Trixie grinned as she shut the door behind her and glanced to Patsy. Her brows lifted,

“Heavens! It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something like that,” Quipped Delia with a soft grin, as she stepped off the porch.

“Well! Shall we?” Trixie put forth, as the three linked arms and stepped into the night.

\---

Dancing had been an unmitigated disaster.

Not only had a pair of fellows broken Delia and Trixie away from her, the music choice was _abhorrent_. In the background din of everything, Patsy itched to step away from the swaying crowds and the tipsy men purring their desires over sloshing drinks. A small group of lads had swayed in, bringing with them the din and discord of a stag party well into full swing. A whoop had gone up on the floor, the tempo had increased, and Patsy found herself hugging her arms tightly, her only free hand dashing away a second cigarette in what felt as many songs, if not minutes.

She hesitated to say anything, really: Delia looked as if she was having a pleasant enough time, having broken Trixie away for the pair to enjoy a twist, laughing between beats. Trixie was clearly having a swell enough time, even though there was a crinkle in her nose each time a fellow tried to offer a drink, waved lightly away with her trademark smile. Patsy hunched a little, feeling put out: She didn’t want to be the dour one, but this night was not going as she’d hoped.

A little voice reprimanded, _You didn’t really want this to begin with_ – But she had, hadn’t she?

Well, no. If she was honest, she’d wanted Trixie to feel better. And she wasn’t going to be able to do that if she sulked in a corner the entire time--

Just as the thought whisked through her, she felt a familiar soft hand taking her elbow, pulling her out. Her eyes widened in surprise as Delia swept her to the floor between groups of people dancing, indiscriminate of gender or ability (as was clearly painful to the fellow in a paper hat on her left—How had he even gotten in?) as the music bounced around them. Trixie grinned wide at her,

“I thought we’d lose you to the gloom, Pats!”

Patsy flushed and huffed as the music continued, her voice raising, “You know how I feel about music!”

Trixie and Delia exchanged a look, and broke into peels of laughter as Patsy was dragged into a twist. Patsy began to bulk, but the pout on her friends faces caused her to roll her eyes, grin, and get into it.

Alright—Perhaps not _entirely_ disastrous.

\--

Hours later—How many? It was hard to say between their laughter and aching feet—The three walked, chewing and sharing stories over the hot fish and chips clutched in their chilled hands. The grease-soaked paper was warm and reassuring, and the tint of vinegar wafting between it all made Patsy feel at home. She half listened, half-watched as Delia and Trixie commiserated together,

“I can’t believe they even let them in!” Delia gasped, shaking her head with a laugh, and Trixie grinned,

“You know I’d have thought the hats a dead giveaway, three sheets to the wind as they were.”

Patsy idled over a chip, holding it up to inspect. “Really? I thought them quite fashionable. _Avant garde_.”

Trixie snorted, which caused Delia to laugh, and caused Patsy to grin. Nonnatus alighted before them as they strolled under the bridge, and they could see some lights still on. Someone was clearly still about, and they paused at the stone threshold of streets.

“Oh.” Delia’s voice lifted softly, and she sighed. She glanced between her beloved and her friend, her shoulders slumping. “You know, I don’t think I’m quite ready to settle in. We’ve been having so much fun.”

Patsy’s heart skipped a beat and she cast a quick, wide-eyed glance to Delia, whose smile flickered across the edge of her lips. It bordered on obscene, and she had to remember not to inhale her food. A beat passed, and Trixie yawned, glancing up to the building. She looked back to Delia, and shrugged,

“Well, I do hear you’re a deft hand at cards, Delia.”

Patsy’s heart nearly lurched out of her chest, and she felt a wave of green pass over her. Perhaps she’d had too much vinegar— _No, not possible—_ but the very idea----

Delia interrupted her before she could balk aloud, fluttering her lashes and chirping,

“Oh! I’ve had some good practice.”

Patsy was left to follow the two several paces behind, their gossip lowering in volume, as she tried to determine what was happening. Cards were… Personal. Cards were _her and Delia’s_ moments alone. Cards weren’t just cards, damnit!

But as Delia rose up the stairs and glanced back at Patsy, who stood blinking at the rails, she smiled and fished a paper packet from her pocket. The dull text reading BICYCLE showed up at her in the dim light, and relief flooded Patsy all at once.

Perhaps cards could just be cards indeed.

\--

“Delia, really.” Trixie exhaled, exasperated, as Delia fanned the cards in front of her across the sheets. Patsy stood aloof, inhaling her last cigarette as she watched the pair play and watched Trixie pout even further.

“I don’t think it’s fair you’re _this_ good.”

“Da’ was insistent I learn, you know.” Delia grinned, catlike over her small pile of coins. They’d agreed to play for petty change and some nail colors Trixie had been willing to give up: Patsy was foreseeing a lot of pink nail color in Delia’s future, something which was as much endearing as it was slightly baffling. Trixie scoffed as Delia went on,

“My mam hated it, but I really think she hated seeing me be so good at something she called a degenerates sport.”

“No kidding,” Muttered Trixie as she pushed another bottle onto the pile, which Delia scooped up in interest, shaking and examining the bottle keenly. Trixie leaned back and raised a brow to Patsy,

“I think I’m out, Pats. How do you manage to get the best of her, anyway?”

Patsy hiccupped slightly, and cleared her throat, snubbing the cigarette quickly. Delia glanced up with a grin, and she tried everything in her power to avoid the look on her face. Trixie snorted and fell back, arms akimbo behind her head.

“Must be your charm, Delia. Patsy’s alright at cards, but I can hardly see her playing you the whole night through.”

“That’s hardly fair—Wait, what?” Delia sat up a little straighter as Patsy turned quickly, looking for anything to busy her hands.

“I’ve played Pats. Sweetie, no offence,” Trixie peered up at Patsy as her head lolled slightly off the edge of the bed, “But you’re terrible. I’m hardly surprised you haven’t joined in!” Trixie’s grin lit, and Patsy scoffed, turning around as Trixie continued,

“Besides, I know the second you lose you get all sullen. So, come on then. What have you been doing that isn’t cards?”

The silence hung tight, braced by Patsy and Delia quite not looking at one another. Propping herself up on one arm, Trixie frowned a moment. Her eyes roamed across the room, landing above Patsy’s bed. The scattering of photos and pictures posted above, cut outs from magazines, bits of poetry and all the ephemera was familiar and feminine. Patsy stood rooted to the spot, wishing Trixie would change the subject, look anywhere else, but as neither of them answered, Trixie gave a soft and sudden:

“Oh.”

“Trixie, what do you mean?” Delia’s voice cut in quickly, her soft chuckle sounding so natural that Patsy, for a moment, was sure they were clear. The pink had risen in her cheeks, however, and Trixie’s fingers rested on her own lips in thought, and Patsy found herself unable to do _anything_ but stare straight ahead. Her heart hammered in her chest as she felt the world tighten, ready to crumble around her, ready to be ripped from beneath her--

Everything she and Delia had done—Had hidden—Had risked----

“That’s it then?”

Trixie turned to face Patsy, her expression a gentle one, her smile open. Delia’s mouth opened and shut, and Trixie shrugged once.

“Well, that makes more sense.”

It was if a wave had crashed through them, and Patsy sank onto the edge of Trixie’s bed opposite, her hands in her lap. Delia was slightly pale, her lips pursed together, as Trixie glanced between them and softened. She lowered her voice softly,

“I—I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve had… Enough hiding myself, I think, for a lifetime. I can’t imagine you’ve fared much better.”

Trixie toyed with a coin, and glanced up at them beneath her lashes,

“If it means anything, I think it’s lovely. And I’m so pleased – So proud – To know such lovely people who can love one another.”

She picked up her cards and sat up, smiling a little too brightly:

“Now—Who’s up for the next hand?”

It took them a moment. Perhaps two, perhaps another drink, another cigarette, before Patsy settled in at last beside Delia. Trixie said nothing more of it, but only smiled softly as the two let their hands meet and intertwine. Patsy picked up some cards, and the games were back on --

And like that, it was if nothing at all had passed. Their voices lifted, the cards rose and fell, and their laughter carried, muffled, through the halls of Nonatus house well into night. Patsy lost two hands and almost swore off playing, before Delia begged her back in. Trixie teased the duo lightly, which fell into a light-hearted ribbing of each other’s play styles as they continued on.

Eventually, the cards were scattered and forgotten, Delia the clear winner of the group with three polishes and much petty change richer, leaning fully into Patsy while Trixie leaned on her elbows and begged them to tell the story of their meeting. A soft lull rolled over Nonnatus house, broken only by softly hidden laughter and the telling of old stories made new, well into the night.

Everything was finally as it should be.


End file.
